


Code Name Josh

by ficdirectory



Category: The Fosters (TV 2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Disuphere Universe, Gen, Lockdown Drill, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Teacher-Student Relationship, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2020-01-04 08:39:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18340097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficdirectory/pseuds/ficdirectory
Summary: Jesus Foster’s fifth grade year has been largely a mystery…until now.  With just a brief scene in Disuphere, there was a sense that Jesus had found safety - however briefly - with his teacher, Mrs. Smith. Now, read an in-depth account of the unlikely bond between a student and his teacher, to discover how her tips ultimately helped Jesus save himself. This story contains spoilers post-Found (Disuphere series #5)





	1. Chapter 1

**_Tuesday, September 2, 2008_ **

 

**_Missing: 11 months and 26 days_ **

 

The first day of fifth grade is...what?

 

There’s no word for what it is.

 

Josh kind of doesn’t care.  He kind of is excited. He kind of is nervous.  All at one time. All balled up inside him.

 

He doesn’t care because why care?  If it’s not going to even do anything?  He’s kind of excited because he gets to not be soooo bored and have his dad bothering him all the time.  And Josh is nervous because of hope.

 

Hope is the enemy.  It is the most dangerous thing ever.  But he can’t help but feel it. Because a tiny part of him is saying  _ what if _ ?  It’s the exact same time of year.  Maybe if he plays his cards right, someone will notice him, and Josh will get to go back.  For real.

 

Mrs. Smith’s class is bright.  Like bright times infinity level bright.  Her room has lots of windows for the sun to shine in.  Josh loves the windows. And Mrs. Smith is okay, too. She doesn’t make fun of his weird clothes or his hair that’s way too long.

 

She looks at the way He is with Josh, when He drops Josh off at her class.  (Josh isn’t allowed to ride the bus.) 

 

“Hi, Josh, it’s nice to have you in class,” Mrs. Smith says.

 

“Don’t be rude, son.  Say hi,” He says, a hand on Josh’s shoulder.  Fingers digging in.

 

“Hi,” Josh says, still Level 3 automatic.

 

“Your desk is right here,” she shows him.  (Right by the window! Yes!) 

 

Then, she nods to Him.  Gives Him a smile that’s fake patient.  “He’ll be fine, Dad…” 

 

Finally, Dad takes the hint, and goes.  But Josh knows He’s always watching. He’s right in the school all the time.  Josh knows he better not do one thing wrong because Dad will know about it.

 

First thing, they say the Pledge, and Josh stands and puts his hand on his heart and says the words he’s known since kindergarten, even if he still doesn’t really get what they mean.

 

Then, Mrs. Smith takes attendance.  Josh’s heart speeds up faster when she calls the first kid’s name: “Adam Anderson.”

 

(Josh almost thought she was gonna say it.  The other name. Still kind of expects it. But it’s been almost a year and it’s never happened yet.  So what makes Josh think it would be any different now?)

 

Glancing out the window, Josh watches two birds flying around together.

 

“Joshua Mitchell?” Mrs. Smith calls.

 

“Hey, that’s you, dummy!” a boy named Casey whispers, seeing the name tag stuck to his desk and nudging Josh with his arm.

 

Josh wants to get up and hit Casey so hard, but he just raises his hand and says, “Here.” 

 

There’s morning announcements and Josh’s favorite part: the lunch menu.  Today’s lunch is chicken nuggets. Everybody at this school gets to have lunch, regardless of money.  You have to say “free lunch” to get it, but Josh has had to do way worse stuff, so saying “free lunch” isn’t bad.  Everybody in the lunch room feels bad for his dad anyway. 

 

Josh hears the lunch ladies talking about it.  

 

_ “So sad, about Josh’s father.  Can you imagine? Raising a child all on your own like that?” _

 

_ “He adopted him, you know?  He’s a saint, if you ask me…” _

 

_ “You tell your dad he’s doing a great job, Josh.” _

 

Josh never knows what to say to those comments, so he always just nods.  Hearing His voice in the back of Josh’s mind, telling him to play along, or else…

 

Anyway, Josh hopes the lunch ladies will knock it off this year.  Thinks they would probably feel different about Josh’s dad if they knew how Josh had to spend his summer break.

 

There is a journal writing prompt on the whiteboard:

 

**_“Why fit in when you were born to stand out?” - Dr. Seuss_ **

 

**_What makes you stand out?  Why is it a good thing? Why is it hard? (Three sentences:  “What makes me stand out is…”)_ **

 

_ 9-2-08 _

_ What makes me stand out is my hair and my close.  It is a good thing becase maybe I do stand out. It is a hard thing becase maybe I do stand out. _

 

Mrs. Smith comes by Josh’s desk when he’s staring out the window.  He doesn’t see the two birds anymore.

 

“Hey, Josh.  How’s it going over here?” she asks.  She has bright pink lipstick and a loose brown braid over one shoulder.  She smells like some kind of flower stuff.

 

Josh pushes his paper over so she can see it.

 

“I see three sentences, so that’s excellent,” she says, and Josh’s ears burn.  She drops her voice. “Is there anything you need me to go over again with you?  About the journal prompt?”

 

“No, thanks,” Josh says.

 

“I ask because these last two sentences are very similar,” Mrs. Smith points out.

 

Josh shrugs.

 

“I’m asking you to maybe look a little deeper.  Because you’ve said you stand out for these reasons.  Your second and third sentences are saying the same thing.  Can you think of a different reason that standing out could be good?”

 

( It is a good thing because maybe then some one will see me and know me and call my mom and I can go home. )

 

“Or a reason why standing out could be hard?” Mrs. Smith tries again.

 

( It is a hard thing becase if He finds out some one knows me He will kill me and then I can never go home.)

 

Josh just stares at Mrs. Smith, blank.  Because he’s not supposed to think. If he can’t think he’s supposed to play dumb.

 

“We’ll keep working on it.  Would you like me to write you back about this?  Or just mark it as complete?”

 

“Complete,” Josh says.

 

And finally, Mrs. Smith walks away.  

 

Josh really misses her perfume.

 

Then they have to do a math sheet to see how much they remember from last year.  Josh remembers the zero times tables through the three times tables but anything higher and Josh stinks at it.  He fails the test that’s not a test.

 

When they move to do group activities, Josh hangs back.  He doesn’t really wanna join in. He doesn’t get along so well with other kids.  He usually ends up getting in fights and having to stand in the corner.

 

But Mrs. Smith encourages him to join a reading group where they can answer questions together while she reads aloud.  From Harry Potter.

 

No way.  Josh actually knows that book.  

 

(No.  Josh doesn’t.  Josh had a terrible life before this and he probably didn’t get to read any books at all.  It’s the first time Josh has ever heard this one.) 

 

So even though the other kids are acting like this is boring, Josh really listens.  Tries. He tries to really listen, but his brain keeps jumping to thing after thing after thing.  Looking for the birds outside. Looking out the door in case Dad is walking by his class right now.

 

Actually seeing Dad there makes Josh have to pee so bad that he almost raises his hand for the bathroom pass.  (Except no way he wants to be on his way to the bathroom when Dad’s just walking around out there. Could Something Else happen at school, too?)

 

Josh ignores his body and pretty soon the gotta-pee feeling fades into nothing and he’s back to listening to Harry Potter.

 

At lunch, he lets the lunch ladies blab on about Dad because they feel extra bad for Josh and give him extra chicken nuggets and let him take honey  _ and _ barbecue sauce.

 

All the kids in his class talk and talk and talk and Josh just tunes them all out.  But he accidentally tunes out of eating too. One minute he was ready to eat every single chicken nugget, even lick the tray they’re on.  Drink all the chocolate milk and the next? It’s empty and Josh’s hands and face feel sticky.

 

Finally he really does have to pee and manages to escape to the bathroom off of the lunch room with no one knowing.  Josh would always rather use the bathroom when no one else is there, too. Even then - even if he only has to pee - Josh locks himself in one of the stalls.  (Because he doesn’t want just anybody seeing his junk.)

 

Recess is boring.

 

Josh wanders around the playground, by himself.  Some kids are playing four-square and some others are playing tag.  Josh almost joins in a bunch of stuff, but he always decides not to at the last minute.

 

(What if he fell and got his clothes dirty?  Or ripped? Would he be in trouble?)

 

Back inside Mrs. Smith’s class, Josh makes up excuses to go up to her desk.

 

( _ “Can I sharpen my pencil? _

 

_ “Can I get a drink of water? _

 

_ “Do you have any pets?”) _

 

Eventually, Mrs. Smith walks him back to his desk and asks him to sit down.  She squats down beside him again, so he can smell her perfume.

 

“Listen, I know it’s hard to get used to school rules again after a long break, but I need you to do your best to sit in your seat and do your reading for Social Studies right now.” Mrs. Smith says.

 

“I’m sorry,” Josh apologizes, and he opens his book to the right page.  Tries to concentrate on reading.

 

At the end of the day, Dad is late picking him up, so Josh hangs around the classroom, helping Mrs. Smith wipe the whiteboard clean, and then wiping off all the desks with cleanser and a paper towel.

 

“Hey, you’re pretty good at that,” she says, busy at her desk with lesson plan stuff.

 

“Thanks,” he says.

 

“Not many kids your age are so good at keeping things tidy,” she says, making conversation.

 

Josh bites his lip.  He’s standing out. Crap.  Maybe he needs to be worse at cleaning.  Play dumb about that.

 

“Hey, it’s not a bad thing,” Mrs. Smith encourages.  “It’s an awesome skill to be able to keep your space clean.”

 

“I know,” Josh answers.  “I mean, thanks, I know…”

 

Mrs. Smith comes out from behind her desk, to sit on it from the front.  “You know, I remember when you first started here last November. It looks like you’ve come really far since then.  Anyway, I just want you to know that I’m here if you need anything. Or if you have questions,” Mrs. Smith encourages.

 

“Really?” Josh asks, curious.

 

“Totally,” Mrs. Smith answers.  “I’m an open book.”

 

“Do you have pets?” Josh asks again.

 

“I do not.  Do you?” Mrs. Smith asks.

 

“No,” he answers.  

 

“Hey, son.”

 

Josh freezes for half of a second, and then he turns his attention to Mrs. Smith’s doorway.  Sees Him standing there.

 

“Hi, Dad,” Josh answers, trying to make his voice sound half bored, half happy.

 

“Did you have a good day?” He asks.

 

Josh swallows, raising his eyebrows at Mrs. Smith.  “Did I?” he asks.

 

“Josh did very well today,” Mrs. Smith reassures.  “I’m happy to have him in my class. He’s a great kid.”

 

Putting His arm possessively around Josh’s shoulder, He says, “Yes, he is.  Let’s go.”

 

“Okay.  Bye,” Josh says, waving over his shoulder.

 

The whole way home, Josh feels like his insides are sinking lower and lower.  At least it’s supper time now. So stuff will be busy for a while. Maybe too busy for Something Else to even happen.

 

But no.  

 

At least he can spend his time thinking about Mrs. Smith.  Josh imagines her with a dog anyway. And maybe a cat and a bird, too.  Lots of animals. And her house probably always smelled like cookies. And she would let anybody who needed to stay with her whenever and not ask any questions.

 

Josh closes his eyes.  Hopes that maybe Mrs. Smith decided to look closer at his journal prompt for today.  Maybe she can read between the lines. See everything Josh isn’t saying.

 

And a part of him still hopes...that maybe on the 7th...he might be allowed to go home after all.  No one told him this would only last a year. It’s just...Josh can’t imagine it lasting longer.

 

It needs to end.  Somehow. And Mrs. Smith just might be the key to all of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Friday, October 31, 2008_ **

 

**_Missing: 1 year, 1 month and 24 days_ **

 

Mrs. Smith doesn’t celebrate Halloween in her class and that’s fine with Josh.  He doesn’t remember last Halloween at all. And he feels more than a little creeped out by people in disguises - even though he’s not really afraid of he costumes - more of who could be hiding in them.

 

Most of the class has been sad about no Halloween in Mrs. Smith’s class, until she made the special announcement about what would be happening instead:

 

_ “Most of you know that High School Musical 3: Senior Year is coming out toward the end of October as well, and our class is going to go see it, on Halloween day.  So I’m handing out a letter with a permission slip on the bottom. Have your parent or guardian sign off. We’re also looking for two chaperones, so if any of you have parents or guardians who want to see this movie, there’s a line they can check and leave their information.” _

 

Ten dollars for the ticket and a snack had been hard to get.  Josh had to do a lot of extra stuff for Dad and swear that he would be on his very best behavior at the movies and not draw any attention to himself at all...especially because Dad couldn’t get the day off to be a chaperone.

 

Finally, the day came.

 

Some of the girls in class cheated and came to school in headbands with unicorn horns or cat ears and a little face paint.  Josh stayed away from them.

 

He did today’s journal prompt:

 

**_“Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend - Martin Luther King, Jr._ **

 

**_Think of a time you had to show love to an enemy.  How did you show love? Did your enemy become your friend?  Are you still friends today? (Three sentences: “One way I showed love to an enemy was…”)_ **

 

_ 10-31-08 _

_ One way I showed love to an enemy was by not hitting him.  He did not become my friend. We are not friends today becase he calls me a dummy. _

 

When Mrs. Smith stops by Josh’s desk, it’s his favorite part.  Josh always tries to get done early, because if he does he has a few minutes to talk just them.

 

“This is a well done entry.  Nice job, Josh,” Mrs. Smith praises.  “You’re getting better and better at these.”

 

\--

 

Laura Elizabeth loves getting to take time to connect with her students during the day.  But she especially makes a point to connect with the two that need it most. Josh, and another little girl in class who doesn’t talk at all, but writes in a way that lets Laura Elizabeth know she has a lot going on in her life.  Writing keeps them connected.

 

More than a month into the school year, she still feels like she has yet to find that connection with Josh.

 

“Hey...I mean, excuse me?” he asks, softly.

 

“Yes?” Laura Elizabeth asks, dropping back into a squat beside his desk.

 

“Remember when you said if I had any questions on the first day?” Josh asks.

 

“I do remember that,” Laura Elizabeth nods.

 

“‘Cause what if I have a question right now, and it’s not actually the first day anymore?” he wonders, speaking super softly.

 

“That would be okay.  Questions are okay any day, just not when it’s time to focus on your own work.”

 

“Oh.  Like now?”  Josh wonders.  “If I had a question, like now?”

 

“I’d love to answer it if I can, but then I have to check on the other kids.” Laura Elizabeth says, giving Josh a heads-up.

 

“Okay.  Well...how do I write...not like me?” Josh asks.

 

Laura Elizabeth furrows her brows.  “What to you mean?”

 

“Like...if I wrote a story about me.  That’s nonfiction, right? But if I wrote a story about someone who’s not...that’s fiction.  So, how do I write like that?”

 

“Well, I think it’s a bit like acting,” Laura Elizabeth muses, pulling up a chair.  “Have you ever acted before?”

 

Josh nods carefully.

 

“So...you imagine a life for your character.  If Josh Mitchell just fell out of the sky one day and landed here in Ocean Park Elementary...with no story...no history...what do you think his would be?”

 

“So just make stuff up?” Josh asks.

 

“In character.  That’s the fun part.  You make stuff up in character.  Stuff that happens to that character.  Does that answer your question?”

 

“I think…” Josh nods.  “Thanks. Oh! Will we still get lunch today?  Before the movie?”

 

“Yes,” Laura Elizabeth smiles, encouraging.  “You’ll still get lunch. I promise.”

 

\--

 

At the movies, Josh feels super hyper.  He hasn’t gotten to go to any movies at the theater, ever.  He has enough money leftover after the ticket to buy a small popcorn and a water.

 

But when the movie starts, Josh chokes.  He almost starts crying. It’s really, really hard to stay in character.

 

See, Josh has put the other name and that whole life far away, buried somewhere deep.  But seeing Gabriella Montez on screen brings back the memory strong. Of nights when Mariana danced and sang and learned every single word to every single song.

 

It makes Josh remember.

 

He  _ can’t  _ remember.

 

Josh throws a piece of popcorn.  It bounces off Shelly Berg’s head.  She doesn’t even notice, but Casey does.  He laughs.

 

Pretty soon, Josh feels bad about wasting that popcorn.  He’s all out. Must’ve eaten all the rest without knowing.  So now Josh is out of his seat, crawling all around on the floor, feeling for the piece of popcorn.  

 

It’s sticky and gross but damn it, Josh shouldn’t have wasted that piece!  Kids around Josh are whispering to each other and picking up their feet and complaining that he’s distracting them.

 

(There’s a slow, boring dance song on right now.  Nothing interesting even happening. Still, when he gets to the aisle, he comes nose-to-feet with Mrs. Smith.)

 

“Stand up, please,” she tells Josh.

 

Sheepishly, Josh does.  

 

“Come with me,” Mrs. Smith says, leaving Shelly and Casey’s moms to watch the rest of the class in the theater.

 

They go out to the lobby and the light stabs Josh’s eyes just like when he comes back upstairs after forever Down There.

 

“Sit down,” Mrs. Smith says and waits while Josh takes a long time walking over to one bench and then another.

 

\--

 

“Josh, sit down right here, please,” Laura Elizabeth says, praying for patience as she indicates a particular bench.

 

“I have to wash my hands,” he tells her, showing evidence that he had definitely crawled around on the filthy theater floor.

 

Laura Elizabeth knows better than to send Josh into a restroom unaccompanied, and instead pulls out a pack of wet wipes from her skirt pocket.  “Here.”

 

Josh sighs, and crosses his arms, clearly disappointed to see that his attempt to get out of a lecture has failed.

 

Finally, he takes the individually packaged wet wipe from her and rips it open, leaving the trash on the bench beside him.  Josh takes an inordinately long time cleaning his hands, and holds onto the wipe, tucking it into his pocket when he’s finished.

 

“What was going on in there?” Laura Elizabeth asks.

 

Josh stares, like he doesn’t have a clue what she’s talking about.  Laura decides she could stand to be clearer.

 

“Can you tell me the rules we went over before we came in?  For how to behave in here?” Laura Elizabeth checks.

 

“Sit in your seat.  Eat your food. Don’t distract your neighbor.” Josh repeats in a flat voice.

 

“Right.  What did you do?” Laura checks.

 

“Crawled on the floor.  Threw my food. Distracted,” Josh admitted.

 

“So, you knew the rules when you broke them,” Laura points out, no judgement.  “What I wanna hear from you is why?”

 

Josh shrugs.  He picks up the discarded wrapper from beside him. “That movie’s stupid…” he admits in a low voice.  “I don’t like it. It’s not even for boys…”

 

“So, you were bored,” Laura Elizabeth guesses.

 

“I guess…” Josh nods.  He glances at her, nervous.  “Are you gonna tell my dad?”

 

“When you’re bored, you can deal with that in a lot of other ways.  You can think about other things quietly in your head. You can think about how other people around you are enjoying the movie, and that’s a good thing.  Now, I don’t think calling your dad is the right way to go here. You were bored, you just needed to know how to channel it. I want your suggestions. What do you think a fair consequence would be?”

 

“Leave me out here by myself, like a timeout?” Josh ventures, his attention caught, as it has been the entire time, by the snack counter.

 

“That wouldn’t be very responsible of me.  I’d like you to come inside the theater again.  And I’d like you to sit in the chair next to me.  You can whisper to me, if you need to tell me something, but no leaving your seat.  And no throwing popcorn. Got it?”

 

Josh nods, guiltily.

 

\--

 

They’re almost back inside the theater when Josh stops Mrs. Smith.  

 

“I...ate all my popcorn.  So I was trying to find the piece I threw…” Josh admits.

 

“Well, I’d be happy to share,” Mrs. Smith offers.

 

“Do you have Junior Mints?” he asks, swallowing.  (Please, please, please say yes please know what it means…)

 

“I don’t.  All the candy is really expensive here.  But I’m happy to share my popcorn.”

 

Josh’s shoulders slump.  He walks back in and sits by Mrs. Smith.  Tries to block out Gabriella singing a sad song about walking away and not looking back.  Blinks back tears. Wonders if Mari has learned this one. He can totally hear her singing it.

 

No more second round of popcorn left.  He tries to think of other things but that just leads to him thinking of Down There, and what happens Down There.  Josh can’t keep thinking of Mariana either.

 

Josh makes his chair go reclined and straight, reclined and straight, reclined and straight, until Mrs. Smith puts a hand on his arm.

 

“Think about other things, Josh.  Hang in there, okay?” Mrs. Smith says.

 

(It’s like she wants him to do well.)

 

But there is no other things to think about so he stares at the ceiling and imagines letters floating there.  Letters from the sentences Mrs. Smith said to him. Josh is not the best speller, but it doesn’t matter if it’s just in his head.

 

\--

 

The lights come up, and Laura Elizabeth taps Josh’s arm.  He blinks. He’s been staring at the ceiling for a good half an hour, but at least he hasn’t been distracting anyone.

 

“Hey, good job.  I’m proud of you,” she tells him.

 

She stands at the door, counting the heads of all 30 of her kids and taking attendance again on the bus, before it leaves, making sure all of them are accounted for.

 

\--

 

When they get back to school, Dad takes forever again to get there.  He usually works until 4:00 and the buses come at 3:45. So Josh has fifteen minutes alone with Mrs. Smith.  

 

He’s her helper in the class, wiping the board and the desks clean, just like he had done the first day.

 

“Sorry I was bad today,” Josh apologizes.

 

“Hey, you weren’t bad.  You didn’t make the best choices today, but now that you know what to do when you’re bored, you can make better ones next time,” Mrs. Smith reassures.

 

“Are you going Trick-or-Treating?  Like...with your kids?” Josh checks.

 

Mrs. Smith laughs gently.  “Josh, I told you at the beginning of the year.  I don’t have kids.”

 

“You could adopt,” Josh points out, scrubbing his own desk until it shines.  (Josh hates the idea of Dad being in here and cleaning anything, and it makes him feel better to do it first.)

 

“Like your dad adopted you?” Mrs. Smith asks.

 

Josh shrugs.  “Yeah, kinda…”

 

“No, I’m not Trick-or-Treating.  But not to worry. I do have candy at my house for kids who do.  ...And for me,” she confides with a smile.

 

“Hey, Mrs. Smith, how was Halloween today, and most importantly, how was my son?”

 

Dad.

 

Josh keeps cleaning desks.

 

“Learning more every day, asking great questions.  You know, the usual,” Mrs. Smith says, and Josh relaxes when he realizes she really isn’t going to tell about how bad he messed up at  _ High School Musical 3 _ .

 

“Really?” Dad asks.  “What questions did he ask today?” 

 

Josh holds his breath, turning toward them and crossing his fingers behind him.  Hoping Mrs. Smith won’t say anything like, “ _ How to write like someone else _ .”

 

But instead she says, “Most recently, he asked if I was going Trick-or-Treating,” she smiles.  “What about you, Josh? Are you going?”

 

Josh looks at Dad, a question on his face.

 

“Not really our scene.  We’re more home-bodies. Thanks for keeping an eye on him.  Let’s go,” Dad says nodding at Josh.

 

Josh throws the paper towels away before he leaves, giving Mrs. Smith one last look.

 

She just waves.

 

She doesn’t get that it’s gonna be a long weekend paying back this favor.


	3. Chapter 3

 

**_Monday, November 3, 2008_ **

 

**_Missing: 1 year, 1 month and 27 days_ **

 

Something has happened this month for Josh, and though Laura Elizabeth cannot for the life of her figure it out, she’s not about to jinx it by asking him why.  In her experience, some kids do better with space and time. Josh seems like one of those kids.

 

He’s stopped writing the prompted journals and started free-writing (which is also an option, as the prompts are just there to help if a child cannot think of a topic to write on).

 

Laura Elizabeth loves being able to write back to her students.  Their thoughts fascinate her. And she feels particularly honored when a quiet student like Josh begins to trust her enough to share his private thoughts with her.  His spelling could use work, but the journals are about expression and communication.

 

_11-3-08_

_Last nite I made supper.  My dad helped me. We had tacos._

**Are tacos your favorite?  I like Greek food.**

 

_11-4-08_

_Lots of people are glad Barack Obama won and is President now.  Dad is not. He voted for the other guy._

**If you could vote, who would you vote for?  Do you agree with lots of people or your dad?  It is okay to disagree.**

 

_11-5-08_

_My favorite is warm food.  Any thing as long as it is warm. I never heard of greek food before is it good?_

**My favorite Greek food is a gyro.  It is warm so you would like it. It is lamb meat in a pita (soft flatbread) tzatziki sauce, onions and tomatoes.  The sauce is a plain yogurt with seasonings on it.**

 

_11-6-08_

_Yum that greek thing sounds good.  I mostly agree with my dad on voting.  If I dis agree with him I do it in my mind only._

**That Greek thing is very good.  And don’t worry. When you grow up and are old enough to vote, you’ll be able to disagree with your dad.  (Voting ballots are private.)**

 

_11-7-08_

_I hope you are rate.  Some times I can’t think of growing up.  Time goes so slow. I did not know voting was private.  Thanks for telling me._

**Time crawls when you’re little and flies when you’re big.  That’s a thing my grandma used to say. Enjoy being a kid, Josh.  (And you’re welcome, if you have any questions, you can ask here.)**

 

_11-10-08_

_How can I enjoy being a kid when every one always tells me what to do?  Kids don’t have power. It is hard being a kid._

**You are so right.  It is hard being a kid.  I think grownups forget that as we get older.  But we shouldn’t. What is one thing that would make being a kid easier?**

 

_11-11-08_

_Alot of stuff.  So much stuff I cant say it all or I will get mad.  And I dont want to get in trouble. I want to be good in your class._

**Well, that is great self-awareness, Josh.  But it is okay to share your feelings. And you ARE good in my class.  I love having you as my student.**

 

_11-12-08_

_Okay.  Guess what?  I can play with a frend today._

**Awesome, who are you going to play with?  Tell me about it tomorrow.**

 

_11-13-08_

_I played video games with Casey even tho I used to not like Casey and want to hit him.  I dont any more bcuz he invited me to his house. I was scared to use his phone to call my house…_

**I am glad to hear you got to spend time with Casey.  It can be hard to do something like using a phone at a friend’s house the first time.  But the more you do it, the easier it will get. I bet next time, you’ll be able to do it, no problem.**

 

_11-14-08_

_I hate the week ends becase of lots of hwork and dad bugging me all the time.  I dont know how kids actually like weekends. I think they stink._

**Well, here’s hoping your dad doesn’t bug you too much this weekend.  That’s no fun. Homework this weekend is thinking about your autobiography.  That’s it. Just see if you can come up with a title.**

 

**_Monday, November 17, 2008_ **

 

**_Missing: 1 year, 2 months and 10 days_ **

 

“Hey.  No journal entry today?  Everything okay?” Mrs. Smith asks as Josh carefully organizes everything in his desk so it looks neat.

 

“Yeah.  Just...Dad has to go on a trip.  I really wanna go, too, but I have to stay home.” Josh tells her sadly.

 

“Ah, well maybe next time you can go…” Mrs. Smith says, and Josh actually feels worse.

 

**_Thursday, December 18, 2008_ **

 

**_Missing: 1 year, 3 months and 11 days_ **

 

Laura Elizabeth is going to be hugely busy over the holiday break, doing her most favorite thing ever.  Grading her fifth graders’ autobiographies. Most are done on the computer. Only a couple had been done by hand, like Laura’s own autobiography back in the 90s.

 

She’s pleased to see that all the kids thus far have taken the notes about formatting and spell checking to heart.  All have pictures included. Smiling, happy little 10-year-olds with family and pets. Some include a hand-drawn illustration here and there when photos obviously couldn’t be located.  

 

But Josh Mitchell was the only student to illustrate every single page of what obviously is a comic book, by hand.

 

His is titled:  _ Code Name: Josh _

 

Laura Elizabeth’s heart sinks at the thought of having to fail Josh for not actually fulfilling the assignment.  But she needs to read the whole thing before she decides one way or another.

 

_ A little over a year ago, I was normal.  Just a normal alien living regular alien life with my alien family.  But somebody did not think we were so normal. On a regular day, humans came to my door.  They took me away from the aliens and my home and brought here. I do my best to fit in. The humans gave me a name and a birthday, like all of them have. _

_ Code Name: Josh.  3/5/98 _

 

His illustration shows a spaceship hovering above a driveway in the sky, high above a dot that is Earth.  One tiny little blobby shape peeks his head out the door, all the alien speech is garbled letters and numbers in speech bubbles above their heads.  Little alien Josh looks appropriately scared.

 

And Laura Elizabeth is hooked.  She is fascinated. Never before has she seen such an apropos interpretation of what it must be like to be taken from your family and placed in the system.  To be adopted.

 

Laura Elizabeth turns the page:

 

_ My family is my dad.  But I miss my alien family alot.  I am not really supposed to care about them anymore but I do really.  On my home planet we have millions of brothers and sisters and it is lonely in this dimension just trying so hard to be human. _

 

On this page, Laura Elizabeth sees human Josh looking in the mirror, alien Josh reflected back.  They share a single thought-bubble that reads: “ _How can I get back_?”

 

_ I do not have pets in this dimension.  But when I grow up, I would like a dog. _

 

Laura Elizabeth is charmed by Josh’s rendering of a dog, smiling as it floats through outer space in full astronaut accoutrements.

 

_ My dad says he does not know alot about my alien family but I do. Aliens can remember stuff from when we are babies.  It’s how I know about the beeping from the lab I came out of. I remember the other alien who was th ere with me. I miss that alien so much. _

 

Here, Josh has drawn two impossibly tiny baby aliens in some kind of plastic container, with lots of wires.  They share one thought bubble with a heart in it.

 

_ My early years I was trapped in a big cage with the other alien before our true family could find us and take us home.  We were very sad while we waited for them but we always had each other so that was good. _

 

Laura Elizabeth can feel her heart break at the sight of alien Josh and the second alien, locked in a cage, lying next to each other, crying.

 

_ In school here I’m not a good student because aliens aren’t from this dimension and we do things different on our home planet.  Mrs. Smith is a good teacher because she listens and never yells and she’s so nice. If everyone was like Mrs. Smith it would not be so bad being here. _

 

Josh has drawn his desk here, a pile of papers show F’s, and human Josh looks sad.  A thought bubble above his head shows he’s still thinking alien. Laura admires the sketch of her that Josh has done.  She smiles from the page and a thought bubble shows that she’s becoming fluent in alien. She is surrounded by little hearts.

 

_ Aliens don’t take vacations because we don’t need to.  Packing bags is hard for aliens because it means leaving.  And so my favorite vacation would just be back at my home planet with my alien family. _

 

A picture here shows alien Josh, two bigger aliens and two aliens about the same size as Josh.  They are all gathered around a table, and all of them are happy and smiling.

 

_ My happiest day does not exist yet.  It will happen when I finally get to go back to my real home.  I hope they send me a spaceship and shine the biggest, brightest light so I know they came to get me. _

 

A teeny tiny human Josh sleeps in the lower left corner of the page.  His dream dominates the page with a spaceship and a giant spotlight and alien Josh grinning.  Clearly, it shows that he spends a lot of time thinking about reunification with his biological family.  An impossibility. Her heart breaks for him.

 

_ The future is tricky.  Because no one knows what will happen or where we will be.  I hope I can be with the rest of the aliens some day. I hope I can have a dog.  But I also know hope is not the best thing, and maybe I need to just keep being Josh.  Keep being this thing called a human the best that I can. Even if is not what I want, at least I am alive. _

 

Human Josh walks away below the words he wrote.  Alien words and symbols litter the ground behind him.  But above his head, Laura can see he is thinking of a tiny heart.  And in the sky above Josh, a heart is just visible in the clouds, too.

 

There is no way that was an accident.  And there is no way Laura can fail Josh for finding such a creative way to tell his own story.

 

She marks the project **+25/25** and adds a note.  

 

**This made me cry.  You have such a powerful story.  Never let go of your hope, okay? Love your illustrations, too.  You are so talented.**

 

**_Monday, January 5, 2009_ **

 

**_Missing: 1 year, 3 months and 29 days_ **

 

The next time Laura Elizabeth sees Josh, her heart trips a little in her chest.  He looks like he feels absolutely miserable. ( _ Or he’s just having trouble readjusting to school time after a break _ …her inner voice cautions, urging her not to jump to conclusions.)

 

Still, she’d be remiss if she didn’t at least check in with him.  He’s had his head down on his desk the whole morning.

 

“Looks like somebody still thinks it’s winter break…” she says gently.  She lays a hand on Josh’s shoulder and he sits up, sighing and trying to wipe his eyes so none of the kids notice how they water.  Seems like he caught a cold over break. Cough and runny nose to boot. 

 

“Caught a cold, huh?” Laura Elizabeth asks, sympathetic.

 

“I’m fine.  I’m not sick,” Josh insists. 

 

Mrs. Smith got down next to him, speaking quietly.  “Is something else wrong?” she asks.

 

Josh looks like a deer in the headlights for a moment or two.  Frozen. Wide eyed. Finally, he seems to find his words again.

 

“I have Failure.  And Photosynthesis,” Josh says pitifully.

 

His words catch Laura, as they often do, making her think about his autobiography.  Before she can ask what he means, another voice pipes up:

 

“Hey!  Josh’s a plant!” Regan jeers.

 

“All right, enough.  Eyes on your own work, and we do not tease in here.   _ Capice _ ?” she asks, feeling just like Uncle Jesse on  _ Full House _ .

 

“ _ Capice _ ,” Regan responds, chastised.

 

“The light hurts my eyes,” Josh says, without her asking for clarification.  “Can I have sunglasses?”

 

“Nope.  Sorry. No sunglasses in school.  But we can turn off the lights in a bit when we watch our movie for Social Studies.  Deal?” Laura Elizabeth gives him an encouraging smile.

 

“Okay,” he manages, scrubbing his hands over his face.  He either has a terrible cold or the single worst case of allergies she has ever seen.

 

“You sure you’re okay?  You weren’t hibernating in a cave, over break, were you?”  Laura asks quietly, hoping her compassion comes through along with her humor.

 

“I actually didn’t get that much sleep…” Josh admits.  Then, looking like he’s afraid he’ll get in trouble, he clams up.  Lots of kids think that their teachers will bust them for breaking rules at home, too.

 

“Too much fun?” she asks, winking, making sure Josh knows she’s not upset with him.  Noticing two other students with their hands up, Laura has to move on. But she stops for an extra second, patting Josh’s arm.  “Get some sleep tonight, okay?”

 

Laura never hears Josh’s answer because she’s already helping Miles and Jenny is in line after him. 

 

She does keep an eye on Josh the rest of the day, though.  

 

And after school, Chris Mitchell is there to pick up Josh right away.

 

Laura Elizabeth is relieved.  Hopes this means Josh can go home and get a little TLC and some rest.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Friday, February 13, 2009_ **

 

**_Missing: 1 year, 5 months and 6 days_ **

 

Josh hates that it’s Friday the 13th.  It reminds him of Freddy Krueger and makes him just know that he’s gonna have to spend the night watching horror stuff.  

 

At least there hasn’t been any long breaks since December so he’s been able to get used to light and being more warm than usual.  Still. He hates this day.

 

Plus, it’s all messed up since Mrs. Smith is having them celebrate Valentine’s Day today and that’s just super messed up.  Josh doesn’t want any Valentines at all. He didn’t make a box. Hates the idea of things lurking. Being somewhere where he can’t see every single detail of what’s there, all the time.

 

Plus Valentine’s Day is mean and gross. A weird baby thing with wings?  That goes around shooting people with arrows and making them love each other?  Sounded too much like Him. Plus what’s fun about knowing every kid in class only gave you a Valentine because they had to?

 

He had gotten Josh a box of Spongebob Valentines to fill out for the kids in his class.  Some nights were like that. So normal it made Josh’s skin itch. The only one he really wanted to give a Valentine to is Mrs. Smith.  She’s his only real friend. Even Casey never invited him over again after that time in November.

 

Right now, it’s the hardest to concentrate.  Plus, the journal entry sucks.

 

**_Write about a person that you love.  What makes that person special? (Three sentences.  One person I love is… What makes ___ special is _____ **

 

But Josh knows better than to let his actual feelings show right now.  So instead of writing about how much he hates Valentine’s Day, he decides to try the thing where he writes in character.  What would Josh say? (What would Dad  _ want _ Josh to say?)

 

_ 2-13-09 _

_ One person I love is my dad.  What makes him special is he saved me from mean parents.  I love him becase he is my dad. _

 

The Valentines party is the real worst because everybody has Valentine boxes except Josh, but they’re still all around Josh.  It makes him so nervous that he spills red Kool Aid all over his desk.

 

All the kids stare.  Josh feels the dumbest ever...well, almost ever.

 

When Mrs. Smith walks over, Josh flinches, sure he’s gonna get it now, but she just gives him paper towels and helps him wipe up.  He hopes the spot on his crotch will dry soon so no one teases him about peeing his pants.

 

He tries to just sit at his desk, but the table with the cookies on it is, like, calling his name.  Like Cookie Land for real. Josh tries to resist for as long as he can, but it doesn’t work. Mrs. Lutz, his horrible fourth grade teacher, called that  _ impulsive. _

 

So, he’s impulsively at the table Mrs. Smith set up with cookies, feeling like Buddy the Elf, cramming as many as he can into his pockets.  He looks around to see if anyone is noticing. Good. He’s in the clear.

 

“Josh?” 

 

He turns around, guilty.

 

“Hey,” Mrs. Smith says.  “Are you sure you don’t want your Valentines?  They’re just in a pile over here.”

 

“No thanks,” Josh says, and then tries to see how many of the cookies he can eat by sneaking bites up from his pockets when no one is looking.

 

\--

 

The classroom is a huge mess after everyone leaves.  Every classroom must be that way because Dad’s later than usual.  It’s okay because Josh would always rather be here.

 

“Not a Valentine’s fan, huh?” Mrs. Smith asks, dumping cookie crumbs into the garbage.

 

“Not a mess fan…” Josh admits, busily scrubbing his own desk with tons of cleanser to be sure it’s not one bit sticky.

 

“Ah…  Well, messes can be cleaned,” Mrs. Smith says in that calm way.

 

“I’m really sorry for spilling,” he apologizes.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Mrs. Smith smiles.  It’s easily Josh’s favorite time of day, just being here, cleaning up the room with Mrs. Smith.

 

**_Thursday, March 5, 2009_ **

 

**_Missing: 1 year, 5 months and 26 days_ **

 

Josh comes to school feeling wired.  It is the weirdest thing to not have Dad bugging him at all.  To be nice to him, even. He sent Josh to school with a bag of Blow Pop suckers - Josh’s favorite is grape.

 

Last year, Mrs. Lutz didn’t let Josh do anything for his birthday, because he’d been too out of control.  Even though the other kids got to hand out a treat and blow out a candle in a cupcake after lunch.

 

“Hey!  Happy birthday, Josh!” Mrs. Smith greets him, the minute he walks in the room. 

 

Knowing Dad’s right behind him, Josh knows he needs to be really in character right now.  “Thanks! Guess what? My dad let me bring these to school for everyone.”

 

“That’s great.  Keep them in your desk and after lunch you can hand one out to everybody.  So you’re eleven today?” she asks.

 

Josh swallows.  “Yeah,” he says, hoping the lie won’t show.  (It’s not a lie if you’re in character. You’re Josh and Josh’s birthday  _ is _ today.)

 

The kids have all started arriving and Dad says hi to them and bye to Josh.

 

“See you later, Josh.  Hey, maybe I’ll stop by and have lunch with you today.  How does that sound?”

 

“Good,” Josh says, a big smile frozen on his face.  (The idea of Dad coming to lunch is actually awful, but he can’t let that show.  Staying alive - and keeping Mariana safe - depended on how well Josh lied.)

 

Josh’s birthday is announced on morning announcements.  The class claps, but only because they usually do. Josh still doesn’t have many friends.

 

Today, he does free-writing in his journal because they’re allowed as long as it’s at least three sentences.

 

_ 3-5-09 _

_ It’s my brithday today and I love brithdays.  After lunch can I hand out Blow Pops and have a cupcake and a candle to blow out? _

 

\--

 

Dad doesn’t show at lunch, thank goodness, so Josh can actually eat.  The other kids, though - the ones that heard Dad’s promise - wish he had showed up.

 

“Dude, your dad’s so cool!” Casey practically whines.  “I wish he was my dad. Mine never even tries to come to lunch or gets me cool video games or anything like that.”

 

Josh just keeps eating, because no one’s watching right now.

 

It’s a lot of work, pretending all the time.

 

\--

 

As if Mrs. Smith read his mind - or maybe just his journal - after lunch they turn the lights off.  Light one giant candle and the class sings happy birthday to Josh. He feels so good one second, and the next there’s a huge lump in his throat.  Looking at this one candle is making him think of the last time he blew out candles.

 

Turning nine, a few months before all this.  For the first time ever, his and Mari’s twinbrain was totally working and they took a breath at the same time and blew out all the candles perfectly with each other.

 

Josh hadn’t known that would be the last time he’d get to blow out candles with her.  It was a magic twin feeling but they had lots of those and Josh just figured they’d have time for lots more of them.

 

He chokes.  Manages to blow out the candle with a weak little breath because that’s all he has inside him.  

 

It is Josh’s real birthday, not the kid he’s not allowed to be anymore, but sometimes that part of him still comes out, on accident.  Missing hard. Because it’s like it doesn’t know it shouldn’t.

 

Josh shoves the tears back in before any can escape.  He hands out suckers and Mrs. Smith has to say to take the one you’re given and trade if you want to, but don’t take a thousand years digging through the bag.

 

She lets Josh, though.  Because it’s his birthday.

 

He even gets a cupcake.  Funfetti with funfetti frosting.  Josh likes the colors. He takes his time to actually taste the cake.  It’s not the same as what they used to do, but it’s so much better than no cake at all.

 

That afternoon, before Josh gets picked up, he stands hesitantly in front of Mrs. Smith, who has told him he doesn’t have to clean today (or ever if he doesn’t want to) since cleaning the class is the custodian’s job.

 

“Josh?  Can I help you with something?” she asks.

 

He swallows.  He really wants to hug her right now, because that would be so much easier than words, and hoping they come out normal and not too babyish.

 

“Just…” Josh clears his throat the way Dad sometimes does.  “Thank you for my birthday. My teacher last year didn’t let me have one.  And this one was everything I missed.”

 

“Well, I’m so glad…” Mrs. Smith smiles.

 

And she does look glad.

 

And Josh wishes that time could stop and he could just stay here at school.  Sleep in her class under the desks. Never go back to That House and try to figure out what the hell to do when He started acting nice.

 

It would be great, you know, if he never had to do that again.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Wednesday, April 22, 2009_ **

 

**_Missing: 1 year, 7 months and 16 days_ **

 

One thing that’s the same before LA as it is now?  

 

Lockdown drills.  

 

They happen wherever you are.  In San Ysidro, or San Diego or LA.  Just wherever. Because gun violence can happen wherever.  So when the principal’s voice comes over the intercom to say Code White, Josh is ready.

 

Other kids cry in lockdown drills, or freeze up, but Josh knows exactly what to do.  He’s volunteered to help move the heavy stuff in front of the classroom door. To help turn lights off and make sure blinds in the window were down.

 

So, when Mrs. Smith goes into action, Josh does too.  First, he helps move a giant shelf thing in front of the door after Mrs. Smith locks it.  Then, he turns off all the lights in the room while she gets the blinds in the windows making sure they’re down.

 

Then, Josh goes to his classmates, huddled at the back of the room.

 

“It’s okay, just be quiet,” he whispers.  “It’ll be over soon.”

 

“Josh, I want you to go get down with the other students,” Mrs. Smith directs.

 

“You, too.  I’ll protect you,” Josh insists.  “I’ll be in front.”

 

“Josh, I am the teacher. So I protect all of you.  Get behind me and be quiet. This is very serious,” Mrs. Smith tells him.

 

Josh swallows and crouches down, arms wrapped around himself.  But he keeps inching forward until he is almost at the front of the group of kids with Mrs. Smith.

 

\--

 

Laura Elizabeth’s heart is pounding.  No matter how many of these she has done, they still don’t feel normal to her, the way they do to some kids who come through her class.  They don’t feel as rote and second nature as a fire drill or a tornado drill had, growing up in Montana. 

 

She had been a sophomore when there was a shooting at a suburban high school in Colorado.  13 died. At the time, it had been the biggest school shooting in the nation’s history. (A statistic that has now been surpassed.)  The point was, there had been no plan then. Laura and students like her had no idea what they would do if a student had a gun.

 

She had always thought having a plan would make her feel that much safer, but the fact is, it just makes her feel more like a sitting duck than ever.  She can’t help but feel like there is still no plan. If the classroom is breached, instructions say to throw things at the shooter.

 

In her four years as an elementary school teacher, she has never had a student who volunteered to help barricade them.  Who willingly placed himself at the front of the group of huddled students. Who wanted, so badly, to protect her. As badly as she needed to protect all of them.

 

She keeps a hand out to the side, hoping to warn Josh back without words.  They’re not supposed to talk. Phones are meant to be off. But one pings. A student gasps behind her.  A girl is crying. Another is passing gas uncontrollably.

 

No one laughs.

 

\--

 

The minutes drag by for Josh.  His ears hurt in the silence. 

 

What if this isn’t a drill?  What if it’s real? Dad has a gun.  A real one. Josh has seen it. What if Dad’s the one here and he’s going to come and shoot Josh?

 

His heart pounds.  Josh feels like running.  Like giving himself up right then.  He doesn’t want anybody else to get hurt.  

 

(But he can’t die either, because if he does then Dad’s gonna go take Mariana and Josh can’t let that happen.)

 

Josh feels frozen.  He doesn’t know what to do.

 

\--

 

When the drill is over, they gather in a circle on the carpet at the front of the room.  While there is no official statement in the handbook about post-lockdown-drill care for the kids (or teachers), Laura Elizabeth wouldn’t feel right just going on with her day like nothing happened.  

 

Most of the kids have transitioned from the drill fine, and seem to accept these as a regular part of the school day, but Josh Mitchell is still wide-eyed and checking the windows and the doors.  He had not wanted Laura to turn the lights on even after the drill had ended.

 

A couple of the girls are still crying.

 

“Hey, guys.  Does anybody have feelings they wanna share about the lockdown drill?” Laura Elizabeth asks.

 

“I want my mom,” one student says, worried.

 

“Can we go home early?” another asks.

 

“It can be scary when we practice for something big, like a lockdown.  But the important thing to remember is we are all safe.” Laura says, projecting a calm she doesn’t feel at all.  (Because how can they be safe with no real plan?)

 

“I don’t believe you,” Josh mutters under his breath.

 

“Oooh…” Kids chorus, low.

 

“You don’t?” Laura asks him, striving to keep her tone open, and curious.

 

“Sorry, but I don’t,” Josh insists.

 

“Why is that?” Laura asks.

 

Josh shrugs.  “Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

 

Laura Elizabeth pushes a little harder, but Josh clams up, refusing to say more.  She hopes she’ll have a few minutes to connect with him after school.

 

\--

 

Now Josh did it.  He talked back to a teacher.  He was disrespectful. He’s gonna be in so much trouble.

 

For the rest of the day, Josh tries to be extra good and helpful.  But he has all this extra energy from being nervous and can’t sit still.  Plus, Dad keeps passing by the class. To everybody else, it just looks like He is a normal dad checking on His kid, but Josh knows just how screwed he is.

 

Mrs. Smith has them do an extra journal entry.  This one is required, not like the usual ones.

 

**_How are you feeling right now?_ **

 

Josh hates this one.  Mrs. Smith gives it out a lot.  It’s, like, her favorite journal prompt of life.  But Josh would be happy if he never saw it again. Feelings are nothing.  

 

Since this journal is just for at school during the day and at Mrs. Smith’s at night, Dad never reads it, so Josh takes a big risk.

 

_ 4-22-09 _

_ How I feel right now is I hate the feeling ones.  Becase Mrs. Smith you cant promise we are safe. You cant promise nothing will happen to us becase no one knows that.  I know you were really scared to. I saw it on your face. People lieing does not make me feel safe it makes me feel to much energy and stuff.  Like I have to all ways to all the protecting my self. But then it’s confusing when you say not to do it when before you said I cud do it. _

 

Josh puts the journal in her “To-Read” basket and goes back to his desk.

 

Even though Dad doesn’t read his school journal, He still has a way of knowing things.  Even things teachers don’t tell him. It’s like He’s psychic or something. He can just tell if Josh did one thing even a little bit wrong.

 

And He always makes Josh pay.

 

\--

 

After school, Josh doesn’t clean anything.

 

It’s like, his body is heavy and he can’t even move it one inch.

 

Mrs. Smith isn’t cleaning either.

 

She comes and sits down at the desk in front of his, sideways, so she can see him.

 

“I read your journal,” she says, and Josh is so embarrassed.

 

Looking away, he asks, “So?” really snotty.

 

“So, I wanted to talk to you about what you wrote,” Mrs. Smith insists gently.

 

“Just write me back,” Josh argues, annoyed.  “Please,” he adds for a good measure. (Josh doesn’t know why he’s being so bad.  He just can’t help it right now.)

 

“All right,” Mrs. Smith says and she goes to her desk right then and takes out her red pen for grading and takes a long time writing.

 

Josh is super nervous looking at the clock.  What if Dad comes back before Mrs. Smith is done?  That was a dumb idea he had. That was probably why Mrs. Smith was going to talk to him.  Talking took way less time than writing.

 

But in a few minutes, Josh’s journal is back in front of him.

 

**Josh,**

 

**You are right.  No one knows what will happen in the future.  What I meant was, we are all safe right now. I did not mean to promise that bad things will never happen. You’re right, I can’t promise that.  But I can protect you, and be scared at the same time. Being brave isn’t not being scared. It’s being scared and doing the thing anyway.**

 

**When you offered to help secure the class, and sit at the front, I did say you could.  To protect your friends. But. My job as your teacher is to protect ALL my students ALL the time.  I would not be doing my job as your teacher if I let you protect me. You are a kid, and that is not your job.**

 

**You are right, lying does not feel very safe, does it?  I’m sorry I made you feel too much energy and stuff. I want you to feel calm and safe in here.**

 

**I know today was a tough day.  Tomorrow will be better, I think.**

 

**Thanks for all your help today.**

 

 

  * ****Mrs. Smith****



 

 

\--

 

Josh glances up at Laura Elizabeth, suspicious.  “But you said I could protect everyone. That means even you,” Josh objects.

 

“Well, it sounds like we had a miscommunication,” Laura explains patiently.  “In here, kids don’t protect adults. Adults protect kids.”

 

“That’s weird,” Josh says.  “Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

 

Laura Elizabeth is stunned silent for a moment.  “I don’t know. To be honest, I thought you knew?”

 

“I didn’t.  Adults don’t always protect kids, you know?” he says, eyeing her critically.

 

She thinks of his autobiography.  The birth family he still feels so connected to despite the horrible abuse he suffered at their hands.  

 

“Yes, and that shouldn’t be.  I’m sorry you went through that,” Laura tells him seriously.

 

“I’m sorry I talked back before…” Josh mumbles, blinking back tears.  “Saying I didn’t believe you…”

 

“Hey...that’s totally okay.  That wasn’t talking back. That was being honest about how you felt.  That was exactly the right time and place to let me know how you really felt, and you did that.”

 

“So...I’m not in trouble?” Josh ventures.

 

“No, Josh.  You’re not in trouble,” Laura reassures.

 

“Because last year,  I got in trouble a lot.  My teacher made me stand in the corner,” Josh reminds her, as he has several times.

 

“Well, I don’t make students stand in the corner in here.  So it’s not something you have to worry about. Like at the movie theater, if you get in trouble, I’ll take you aside and we’ll talk about it just the two of us, and we’ll figure out what you need to go forward and have a better day.”

 

“Like sitting by you and sharing your popcorn?” Josh asks.

 

“Exactly,” Laura smiles.  “That helped, didn’t it?”

 

Josh nods.  “You really do make me feel safe.  I was just being rude before. Sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” Laura reassures.  “If there’s ever anything I can do to make you feel more safe, you can tell me.  Or you can write it in your journal for me to write back to.”

 

Josh looks at her, hesitantly.  He opens his mouth. Shuts it.

 

“Hey, Josh.”

 

Laura Elizabeth glances up at the sound of Josh’s dad’s voice from the open classroom doorway.

 

“Hey,” Josh says, sliding the notebook back into Laura Elizabeth’s hands.

 

“What’s going on here?” Chris Mitchell asks.

 

“Just a heavy day with the lockdown drill.  Did a little bonus journaling,” Laura Elizabeth shares.

 

“Yeah, those things are intense,” Chris comments.  “Still can’t believe they’re so common now. Sure didn’t exist when I was growing up.”

 

“No, me neither,” Laura comments sadly.  “Josh, great job today.”

 

“Okay.  Thanks,” he manages and falls into step beside his dad.  Chris puts an arm around Josh’s shoulder. They walk away down the hall together, and Laura flips Josh’s journal open, to be sure she marks it complete.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Monday, May 18, 2009_ **

 

**_Missing: 1 year, 8 months and 11 days_ **

 

Laura Elizabeth notices when one of her students is out of sorts.  And today, Josh Mitchell seems particularly out of sorts.

 

He’s a student who seems to wear all his stress in his body.  It comes out in an inability to sit still. A restlessness. He wanders.  (At conferences this year, his father, Chris, had mentioned that Josh has a myriad of diagnoses, including Failure to Thrive, photophobia and ADHD.)  It gave Laura pause. If Josh really did have these conditions, why wasn’t he on an IEP? Getting services? Accommodations he needed to help him get through the year?

 

When she asked, Chris had seemed completely lost.  

 

“ _ I’m sorry.  I didn’t know.  I’ll get him evaluated ASAP.  Thanks for telling me. _ ”

 

But Laura knows, with less than a month of the school year left now, the likelihood of Josh getting any kind of intervention at this point is low.  So, she’ll just have to keep doing what she’s been doing and reminding him of limits, but also approaching him with understanding.

 

The morning has barely begun.  Josh is rocking hard in his chair.

 

“Mrs. Smith,” Casey Myers whispers.  “Josh is being weird.”

 

“Everything means something, Casey.  Eyes on your own work.” she redirects.

 

Then, Laura Elizabeth approaches Josh, settling a hand between the hard back of Josh’s chair and Josh himself. 

 

He rocks hard into her a few times before Josh seems to realize she is there at all.  He blinks at her. “What?” he asks, like he’s confused, or sleepy.

 

Laura Elizabeth gets down next to his chair.  “You seem stressed,” she observes gently.

 

Josh shrugs.

 

“Do you need to write me something?  And have me write back?” Laura asks, remembering a month ago, with the lockdown drill.  How writing had facilitated their ability to communicate.

 

“Birthdays,” Josh says, like he’s miles away right now.

 

“Ah.  Birthdays are important.  Would you like to write to me about birthdays during journal time this morning?”

 

“What?” Josh asks again, and Laura can feel her heart ache for him.  Whatever’s on his mind is taking all of his focus.

 

She points to his notebook.  “May I write something to you in this?”

 

For the first time, Josh seems to really look at her.  He nods and slides the book toward Laura.

 

**Write to me about birthdays, Josh.**

 

Laura Elizabeth slides the book back, intentionally not giving him a sentence-limit, and steps away as Josh begins to write.  He’s not rocking anymore, but one leg bounces under his desk.

 

\--

 

_Brithdays are confusing and sad.  I hate brithdays. I miss my alien family alot.  I had a sister in my alien family. It is was her brithday today yesturday and I miss her so much.  I want to see her and talk to her and know how she is but I never can.  I hope she is still ther were she was in outer space and not gone for ever.  I am really scared I will never see her agen,_

 

Josh brings his journal up to Mrs. Smith at her desk.  His heart is pounding. He knows he is never supposed to write about Mariana.  Only Dad is allowed to ever bring her up when he wants to be mean.

 

But this is the one place Dad never looks.  

 

(It makes him think back about his autobiography.  How he got an A+. Like Josh’s only A+ ever in his life.  But he couldn’t show it to Dad. He couldn’t even take it home.  He wrote his home address - the Fosters’ address - in the smallest letters on the back, hoping Mrs. Smith would see it and mail it to them.  But she hadn’t.)

 

He watches as Mrs. Smith writes back.

 

**Dear Josh,**

 

**Birthdays are really hard when you can’t see someone anymore.  I am so sorry you’re going through that. What helps me is remembering the good times.  It will probably still hurt and be sad, but it helps me feel a little better.**

 

**Mrs. Smith**

 

Josh thinks it’s lucky Mrs. Smith can do that.  He knows he can’t. Josh knows it’s better if he just forgets his family altogether.  He’s never going to see them again anyway. He might as well just get used to it.

 

Sometimes it helps to write to Mrs. Smith but it definitely doesn’t help today.  Everything is all jammed inside and Josh can’t think about the good times or he’ll break and he can’t do that.  If he breaks, he’s putting Mariana in danger.

 

And the only thing keeping him together is knowing that he’s protecting her.

 

\--

 

Josh still seems distant and Laura has a hard time keeping him on task.  She’s tried the usual methods, and nothing seems to be working with him. She doesn’t want to punish him, especially as what he’s doing doesn’t seem intentional in the least.  But the more she sees, the more convinced Laura is that this child needs services - that he has probably needed them since last year. Likely before that, even.

 

Laura Elizabeth hates seeing a child struggle, especially when he does not have to.  When accommodations could be made to help him. But Laura has no way to do that. She remembers bits and pieces from a single class she took in college on teaching kids with disabilities.  But somehow, none of that seems right here.

 

Not to mention the fact that Laura does not only have Josh to teach.  She has 29 other students who need her attention. There’s just something about him.  Something that she can’t put her finger on. It must be knowing his tragic background.  But all her kids have had difficulties in their lives. She remembers a note from a teacher in college when she remarked on having favorites, during student teaching.  Knowing she was not supposed to.

 

Laura remembers being told that she  _ could _ have favorites, but her favoritism could not be reflected in grades she gave the children.  She often found herself drawn to the children others called ‘difficult’. Jane Lutz spun wild tales about Josh in the teacher’s lounge, while making no secret about hoping that he and his father moved out of the district, to spare any of the other teachers his “antics.”

 

But Laura had always secretly hoped she might get Josh as a student.  She made no secret of it, either. And when she saw the name Joshua Christopher Mitchell on her class roster at the beginning of the year, her heart leapt.

 

Now, though, with less than a month left in the year, and Josh still struggling so much?  Still barely passing reading, spelling, math, science, social studies, and language but excelling in art.  In gym. He was the only student to get all 25 points on his autobiography (because he’d been able to turn in a rough draft and get feedback before the final one, and correct his mistakes.)  According to other teachers, Josh was “a puzzle,” “a hopeless case,” “a bit of a mystery.” But to Laura, he was simply a child, getting through life the best he could without adequate resources.

 

\--

 

At recess, Josh gets in trouble for fighting.  It’s on purpose and it’s not. Because if he gets in trouble then he can go back to class and be with Mrs. Smith.  But he also knows that if he gets in trouble, there’s a good chance that Dad will find out and he’ll be in worse trouble than ever.

 

It’s all stupid Casey and Regan’s fault.  They’re the ones saying he’s so dumb. And that reminded him of That First Day.  Going Down There for the first time and hearing the loud, loud music that hurt his brain so much.

 

The aide on the playground makes Josh stand against the wall of the school.  He sinks down until he’s sitting and doesn’t hear her when she keeps talking at him to stand up.  He just blanks out his whole brain. It’s better that way. 

 

Josh only comes back from wherever he went when Mrs. Smith is there, and he can smell all her perfume.

 

“Josh?  What’s going on out here?  We don’t punch kids in our class.”

 

“I wasn’t,” he denies.

 

“The aide and the class all saw you punch Casey,” Mrs. Smith points out.

 

“We were outside…” Josh says, trying again to make Mrs. Smith understand.

 

“You’re saying you weren’t in class, where we don’t punch people, so you thought it was okay to punch people?” Mrs. Smith tries.

 

“Yeah…” Josh says staring at his knees.

 

“Okay, well I should have been more specific.  That rule is actually for all of school grounds.  Our class, gym, the art room, the lunch room, and the playground.  Everywhere that’s a part of being at school, hurting others isn’t allowed.”

 

“But _ he _ hurt  _ me _ ,” Josh objects, his voice heavy with feeling.  “He calls me dumb.”

 

“If somebody calls you a name, you go tell a grown up,” Mrs. Smith explains.

 

“Why?” Josh asks.

 

“So that grown up can help you,” Mrs. Smith explains.

 

“Like how…” Josh asks skeptically.

 

“I can talk to the class again about how we don’t call names.  I can talk to Casey.” Mrs. Smith offers. “But I think I’m going to have to send a note home with you today.”

 

“No!” “Josh objects.  “I didn’t mean to! Nobody told me about the playground being part of no-punching or talking to a grown up when people call me dumb!”

 

“I hear that.  And I think that is something your dad needs to be aware of, so that he can help you.”

 

“Please.  I learn rules really good, I promise!  I just didn’t know that one. I promise I won’t ever fight again on the playground.  Please don’t tell on me. Please…” Josh begs, his voice hoarse.

 

“You don’t think your dad would wanna help you?” Mrs. Smith asks.

 

“He’d just say I should know that already…” Josh mutters.  “And I’ll be grounded forever. Please don’t tell him. You can punish me however you want.  Make me write sentences or Something Else or whatever you want. Please, Mrs. Smith.”

 

\--

 

There’s something about the look in Josh’s eyes.  That old desperation, likely borne of spending his formative years in an unstable home where rules weren’t explained or simply did not exist.

 

“Okay.  Listen. This happened at school. So we’ll deal with it at school.  I wanna talk to you more after, while we wait for your dad. But we’ll keep it between us.” Laura promises, unsure if, in fact, she is making the right decision.  Just knowing she has to trust her gut. And that she has to get back to the rest of her students.

 

\--

 

After school, Josh waits at her desk after all the other kids have gone to the buses.

 

“You can sit at your own desk,” Mrs. Smith invites, taking one nearby.  “So I wanna let you know I saw that you did your very best to stay on task when you came in from recess, and I appreciate that.  And I appreciate that you apologized to Casey.”

 

“You said I should,” Josh points out.  

 

“Right, I did.  Did you have anymore questions about no punching on the playground?” she checks.

 

“Yeah….um...what do you say?  You know? Like, if something’s wrong? How do you tell a grown up that?” Josh asks, doodling in his notebook.  He’s drawing stars. Hearts.

 

“Well...like today, when Casey called you a name?  You could go to the playground aide--”

 

“Which one?” Josh presses.  (He knows it seems like he’s really not listening, but he is.)

 

“Let’s say...go to the closest one.  Or the one you trust the most.” Mrs. Smith says.  “And you tell that grownup what’s happening. You could say something like, ‘Casey called me dumb,’” Mrs. Smith explains.

 

“Then what?” Josh asks, still drawing.  “What’ll she do?”

 

“She might ask you to point out Casey, so she knows who he is.  Then, she’ll go to him, and probably have him stand by the wall.”

 

“Like me,” Josh remembers.

 

“Right, because if you’re not in control, you need to take time to get in control again.”

 

“Then what?” Josh asks.

 

“What do you mean?” Mrs. Smith asks.

 

“He’ll never call me that again?” Josh wonders seriously.

 

“If he ever does? You find the closest adult to you.  Or the one you trust the most, and tell us. We’ll deal with Casey.  Make sure he apologizes to you, and takes a timeout.”

 

“He did that today,” Josh says, distracted.  “Said sorry. That was weird.”

 

“Is it?” Mrs. Smith asks.  “How come?”

 

“Because nobody ever says it to me,” Josh comments softly.

 

Just then, Dad’s in the doorway.  It’s time to go.

 

But just like she promised, Mrs. Smith doesn’t tell.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Tuesday, June 9, 2009_ **

 

**_Missing: 1 year, 9 months and 2 days_ **

 

Most kids are excited on the last day of school.  But Josh isn’t most kids. He can’t imagine what the summer will bring.  He can barely make it through weekends. How is he going to keep going through an entire summer, and not have Mrs. Smith to come back to school to in September?

 

It’s like he’s stopped even trying for anything different.  It’s like he’s just given up. Said, “Oh well. This is just how life is.”  When he knows. It’s not really. There’s way more to it. 

 

Josh swallows down his feelings.  Stands for the Pledge for the last time as a fifth grader.  Hears the lunch menu for the last time as a fifth grader. (Italian dunkers, yum.)  Says “here,” for the last time as a fifth grader to the name Josh Mitchell.

 

It’s gotten so easy responding to that name.  It’s almost like he was never anybody else. If he heard another name, Josh would probably freeze or just ignore it or not even know anybody was talking to him.

 

Their last journal prompt of all of fifth grade is on the white board:

 

**_What did you learn this year?  (Three sentences. This year, I learned…)_ **

 

_ 6-9-09 _

_ This year I learned what to do when I am bored.  This year I learned not to punch even on the play ground.  This year I learned what its like to have some one care about me agen.  Thank you Mrs. Smith. _

 

\--

 

The last day speeds by in a haze of excitement, yearbooks and cheering.  Before Laura Elizabeth knows it, her class of fifth graders, her class of 2009, is on its way out the door in a flurry of screams, cheers and a stampede of little feet.

 

Only Josh remains behind.

 

He stands by his desk, in brown corduroy pants and a white shirt with a wide orange stripe in the middle.  His hair is long. He hasn’t gotten it cut this year, and it completes the impression that Josh is not entirely of this era.

 

“Here,” he says abruptly, handing her his nondescript steno pad with light green pages.

 

“I wrote back already, Josh…” Laura says, confused.

 

She remembers, clearly:

 

**Josh, Thank you.  I learned from you, too.  To look at things from other perspectives.  I learned that my students are always trying their very best.  I learned that what might seem obvious to one person is not so obvious to someone else.  You’ve helped make me a better teacher. Have a great summer. Mrs. Smith**

 

“No, I mean, have it.  You keep it,” Josh insists.

 

“Are you sure?” Laura asks, surprised.  “Wouldn’t your dad like it?”

 

“No, he says I bring home too much paper from school anyway, and it wastes trees.  He’d probably read through it once and recycle it.”

 

“Okay.  I’ll keep it,” Laura insists.

 

“I have to go wait for Dad at the front doors,” Josh says apologetically.  “But what if I had one more question?”

 

“I’d say that I’d be happy to try and answer it for you,” Laura Elizabeth answers smiling.

 

“So...I don’t exactly know how to say this...but…  What do I do without you?” Josh asks honestly. “How do I know who to trust?”

 

“You’re making it awfully hard to say goodbye to you without crying, kiddo…” Laura Elizabeth remarks, blinking back tears.  She walks with him to the front doors of the school and stands with him there, both looking out the glass panes at the parking lot.  “I think, the most important person to learn to trust is yourself, Josh. Trust your gut.”

 

“What’s that?” Josh asks.

 

“It means, trust that feeling you get inside when something’s wrong.  Trust it when it tells you what to do. Trust what it tells you about people.”

 

Josh glances up at Laura, shaking hair out of his eyes.  “My gut’s crappy at that,” he says, matter of fact.

 

“Well, your gut will get better at it, the more you practice figuring out what it’s telling you and what to do with that information.”

 

“What if I get it wrong?” Josh worries.

 

Laura Elizabeth squats so she’s at eye level with him.  “Everybody gets it wrong sometimes, kiddo. The key is, knowing that there’s always another chance to get it right.”

 

Josh nods, as Chris Mitchell walks up behind them both.

 

“Hey, pal.  Ready to go?” he asks, putting an arm around Josh.

 

“Bye, Mrs. Smith,” Josh says, and he waves behind him.

 

When he’s out of sight, Laura finally lets her tears fall.

 

**_Thursday, December 23, 2021_ **

 

**_Home:  10 years, 2 months and 9 days_ **

 

Jesus arrives at Mrs. Smith’s right on time, Francesca holding his hand.  Since he still doesn’t love wrapped stuff, Fran suggested a Santa bag where they could put the gifts they brought.  The minute Fran found out about Mrs. Smith having a 9-year-old daughter who used a chair, she begged to come along, too.

 

It’s weird, but Jesus never exactly pictured Mrs. Smith with young kids.  She seemed like such a mom back when he had her as a teacher, he was sure she was just kidding all those times she said she didn’t have any kids.

 

“Hi!” Mrs. Smith exclaims opening the door.  “I’m so glad you could come! Come in! My hubby’s got Gil and Lea out and about tonight, so it’s just me and Elle inside.”

 

Jesus ventures in, having helped Fran up the steps.  The whole house is decked out for Christmas. Garland, a real tree, the works.  It even smells Christmassy in here. Like pine and cinnamon and fresh cookies. But Mrs. Smith doesn’t have any music going, thankfully.

 

“Hi!” Francesca introduces herself to the other little girl.  “My name’s Francesca and that’s my big brother Jesus and his dog, Dudley.”

 

“I’m Giselle.  I’m nine. How old are you?” Mrs. Smith’s daughter says.  She’s tiny, with brown hair at her shoulders and glasses, and she’s dressed in a warm-looking blue hoodie with fur and some jeans with a butterfly pattern on them.  Her chair is just about the coolest Fran has ever seen judging by the look on her face. (Purple in front, pink underneath.)

 

“Eleven,” Francesca tells her.  “Hey, you wear a braces? Me, too,” Fran says, rolling a leg of her pants to show the brace on her right leg, decorated with bright flowers.  

 

Jesus doesn’t make a habit of this or anything, but Francesca really wanted to dress alike, so they’re here in dark grey sweats, and baseball-style shirts that say  _ Cookie Baking Crew _ on them, with a little gingerbread cookie for the  _ i _ .

 

“Wanna come see my room?” Giselle asks Francesca.

 

Fran turns to Jesus, a question in her eyes.  

 

“Go ahead if you want.  We’ll be right here,” Jesus encourages.

 

Once Fran and Elle are giggling and on their way down the hall to Giselle’s room, Jesus turns to Mrs. Smith.  “Thanks so much for being cool about this. Fran saw the Christmas card you sent with Giselle in it and… Well...she’s been wanting to connect with some kids like her.”

 

“Oh, Giselle’s the same way.  ‘Mom, do you think I’ll have a  _ friend _ ?’  I mean, she has school friends, but none who really get what it’s like.”

 

“Yeah,” Jesus nods.  “Fran met a kid at the park near our house, and she’s been able to hang out with him a bit, but nothing like this.  Like, coming to a friend’s house to play.” He cocks an ear and can hear them down the hall talking about Netflix and coloring stuff.

 

Normal kid stuff.  He knows Fran’s been wanting this...and Jesus has been wanting it for her, too.

 

“So, how are things?” Mrs. Smith asks.

 

“I mean, they’re better, for the time being.  So, that’s good. Moms are learning. Trying. So...I mean, it’s better than nothing,” Jesus concedes.

 

“Yeah?  I’d be curious to know what the seminar thing was that your parents went to?  I feel like I should check it out.”

 

“I can give you the info,” he says and forwards a link to her Twitter DMs.

 

“Thanks,” Mrs. Smith grins.

 

\--

 

For the record, it never gets any less weird having your former student over to your house.  Not to mention, one who’s achieved the level of recognizability that Jesus has. To be honest, Laura Elizabeth has been kicking herself since reconnecting with him in July.  Poring over his fifth grade journal for clues, but she finds so little.

 

And she knows it’s not fair to Jesus to turn a fun visit into a trip down a particularly awful memory lane for him.

 

Laura remembers like it was yesterday walking into school the day after the news broke that Jesus Foster had been found.  When seeing him on screen for a few seconds was enough for Laura to know, without a doubt, that Jesus was Josh - or rather - that  _ Josh _ was  _ Jesus _ .

 

How she tried to ignore Jane Lutz’s gossip in the teacher’s lounge the next morning.  The way she said:

 

_ “I knew it.  I knew there was something wrong with that child.  And now we know why, don’t we? What I don’t understand is why he didn’t say anything?  To any one of us?” _

 

After digging out the autobiography Jesus had done more than two years prior the night before, Laura hadn’t been able to stop crying.  Because the proof had been right there. And she had missed it. They had all missed it.

 

So, Laura Elizabeth had snapped. “He tried _!  He tried a thousand different times in my class, Jane!  And if you really did suspect something and didn’t tell anyone?  You’re complicit in some pretty heavy stuff. Jesus Foster didn’t fail here.   _ We _ failed  _ him.”

 

Laura remembers walking out just before she started crying.

 

The silence is just becoming awkward, when Jesus breaks it, surprising Laura:

 

“Remember when I punched that kid, Casey, on the playground?” he asks ruefully.  “God, I was a little shit, huh?”

 

“I don’t think so,” Laura Elizabeth insists gently.  “You were just a kid trying to deal with things yourself.  You had to deal with a lot by yourself.”

 

“Yeah...I remember...he called me dumb...and that’s…  Well, it’s always been a thing for me,” Jesus ventures, pulling his hat down over his eyes briefly and finally peeking at her.

 

“Makes sense,” Laura nods.  “You were never trying to make trouble on purpose, Jesus.  I knew that. I knew that from the start.”

 

Jesus sighs.  “Yeah… So, do you guys like it here?  Everybody adjusting okay?”

 

“We do, yeah.  And the adjustment’s been different for everyone.  Ooh. Can’t believe I forgot. Giselle and Francesca, you wanna come out and decorate cookies?” Laura calls down the hall.

 

“Oh, my gosh!  Jesus, did we wear the perfect shirts without even knowing this?” Francesca asks, gesturing to her own.

 

“Looks like,” he smiles.

 

“Jesus, you’re welcome to help, too.  Or watch. Whatever you’re comfortable with,” Laura encourages.

 

“So, Mom, are we eating these or just decorating them?” Giselle asks.  “Because I saved room from dinner, and I am pretty hungry.”

 

“I’m always hungry for cookies,” Francesca confirms.  

 

“How about...we decorate first, and you two can set one special one aside to eat when we’re done?” Laura Elizabeth checks with Jesus, who nods.

 

“Sounds fair,” he nods.

 

“It would be fairer if we could eat all of these,” Giselle insists.  “Don’t you think, Mom?”

 

“Well, I don’t think it would be fairer on our tummies,” Laura cautions.

 

\--

 

Jesus can’t resist and ends up in the kitchen with Francesca, Mrs. Smith and Giselle and all of their dozens of sugar cookies.

 

Fran is picking through the unfrosted Christmas shapes - bells, Santa faces, candy canes and reindeer.

 

“Do you have any sloths?” she asks.

 

“I’m sorry.  Did you say sloths?” Mrs. Smith asks, laughing.

 

“Sloths are kinda her thing.  And I think these are just Christmas cookies, buddy,” Jesus tells Francesca kindly.

 

“Aw, no Christmas sloths…” Fran says, momentarily sad.  But she perks up right away and picks a reindeer.

 

“If there were Christmas sloths instead of reindeer, they’d take forever to deliver the presents…” Giselle points out, selecting a Santa for herself.

 

“It’s okay to be slow,” Francesca points out, already picking out some brown frosting for her reindeer’s face.

 

“Yeah, but not on Christmas!  Then the presents would be late!” Giselle giggles.

 

Fran joins in laughing, and soon the two of them are talking through scenarios where a sloth could be included on the sleigh ride, just not the flying of the sleigh.

 

“Maybe it could just sit by Santa…  You know, like in the sleigh?” Fran offers, squeezing out a massive amount of red frosting onto Rudolph’s nose.

 

“Whoa.  Accidental frosting overload.  Let’s put some back,” Jesus laughs.  “I bet Giselle’s gonna want some for her Santa.  And Mrs. Smith will want some for her candy cane.”

 

“It’s funny how you call my mom Mrs. Smith, and you’re grown up,” Giselle observes.

 

“Well, it’d be like...if you went to Mrs. Holt’s house. You wouldn’t suddenly call her Donna because you were at her house, would you?” Mrs. Smith asks easily.

 

Giselle and Fran break into giggles.  “Donna!” They say every few seconds and laugh more.

 

Jesus is super focused on his bell.  Outlining it in red and green and then carefully filling in the space with yellow frosting.  When he’s done, Jesus sets the cookie on a plate for their finished ones and moves on to decorate a Santa.

 

“Whoa!  That’s so cool!” Giselle exclaims.  “Mom, that’s so cool, right? What Jesus did?”

 

“It is,” Mrs. Smith compliments.  “Jesus has always been great at creating.”

 

“Thank you,” Jesus says, ducking his head.

 

Jesus looks at the clock, can see it’s getting late.  Thankfully, Mrs. Smith catches Giselle yawning at about the same moment.  They clear the cookies away, except for the four they decorated with the intent to eat, and Mrs. Smith pours them all hot apple cider.

 

“Can Francesca come back, like next week?” Giselle asks.

 

“Or, like, tomorrow?” Fran offers, only half kidding.

 

“Buddy, it’s Christmas Eve tomorrow.  Mrs. Smith probably has stuff going on with her family,” Jesus advises, trying to break it to Fran gently.

 

“Hey, who says you guys don’t qualify?” Mrs. Smith speaks up.  Jesus glances at her, startled to see she’s serious. “If you and Jesus think it’s okay, I can call your moms, and we can talk about setting something up.  You girls wanna see each other at least weekly, right?” 

 

“Yes!” Fran and Giselle chorus.

 

And Giselle adds, “Francesca’s my best friend.”

 

Francesca looks torn.  “I already have a lot of best friends…” she whispers to Jesus.  “Like all of the Avoiders. I don’t wanna be rude.”

 

“Well, what about kid best friends?  Kimani or Shane? Or Nico?” Jesus asks, knowing that his little sis would hesitate to call any of them her best friends. 

 

“You’re mine, too,” Fran tells Giselle.  “My best friend, too. ‘Cause we just get each other.”

 

Before they go, Jesus tucks their presents safely under the tree - a baby animal calendar to Giselle from Francesca and a little sign that Jesus found that reads:  _ The influence of a good teacher can never be erased _ .

 

“Come back, okay?” Mrs. Smith tells Jesus.  “I mean that,” she says as he reaches down to hug her, after checking to be sure it’s okay.

 

“We will,” Jesus promises.

 

“Bye,” Francesca waves.

 

“Bye,” Giselle waves back.

 

“Wait, you two should totally get a best friend picture,” Jesus says, turning to Francesca.

 

“Okay!” Fran answers, going to hold Giselle’s hand as she stands by her, their heads leaned together.

 

Jesus snaps several pics with Fran’s phone and then offers.  “One of all of us?”

 

“I’d love that,” Mrs. Smith responds, her smile bright.  “And it would stay within these four walls. Right, Elle?  No sharing pictures without asking?”

 

“Right,” Giselle promises.

 

Mrs. Smith puts her phone, facing them, on the table. It counts down and they all smile.

 

And it’s weird, but Jesus finally - totally - feels at home.


End file.
